


Sniper Protection Agency

by viceroyvonmutini



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Caroline Turing, F/F, Swearing, my child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 16:19:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4186569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viceroyvonmutini/pseuds/viceroyvonmutini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shaw really hated therapists.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sniper Protection Agency

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: “i use morse code to talk to my friend during class but it turns out you know morse code too and now you know that i think you have a cute butt” au. I can just imagine an au where Shaw is around when Root's number as Turing comes up, and she and Reese talk in morse code around her, and well, it's Root :P She definitely knows morse code.
> 
> Some of you may know I have a not-so-small thing for Caroline Turing and pre-machine Root so this is much shorter than i would have liked, but i very much enjoyed writing this prompt.

'Who is she?' grumbled Shaw through a mouthful of blueberry muffin.

John turned to face her as he watched their new number through the window of the nearby coffee shop. He raised an eyebrow.

'I was hungry; who is she?'

'Caroline Turing.'

'You blue jack her phone?'

John passed her his own phone and she perused its contents, eating her muffin with vigour.

'Psychologist. Damn,' she remarked, mouth full of muffin.

_'Indeed,'_ floated Finch's voice in her ear, _'good morning Ms Shaw.'_

'So is she the victim or the perp?' asked Shaw, cutting swathes through the pleasantries and Finch wondered if he might ever get used to that or simply take on the daunting probably perilous task of teaching Sameen Shaw manners.

_'By the looks of things most likely the former; she has no outstanding debts, no family troubles and by all accounts seems a model citizen. Her clients on the other hand range across the city's more... privileged._ '

'People with things to hide,' clarified John for them both.

'So we can assume she's got dirt on a lot of them?'

_'Precisely.'_

'What's the plan Finch?'

_'Tail her for now. Case her for any potential threats that may be imminent.'_

'Yes sir.'

'And please Ms Shaw: no unnecessary fire power.'

Shaw grinned.

'Where's the fun in that?' she teased before pressing off her coms.

She popped the last piece of muffin into her mouth as she and John began their duties and Caroline Turing left the shop, double shot Caramel Macchiato firmly in her hand.

 

* * *

 

'That guy doesn't look too friendly,' remarked Shaw, cleaning her gun as she perched next to John.

_'One of her clients: a Mr Hans Freiderickson. Prominent city lawyer and officially away on a business trip.’_

'Looks like he might be a possible threat.'

‘What gave it away the aggressive stance or the verbal threats?’

John didn't acknowledge the teasing.

_'I think it's time one of you works through some of your...problems,'_ suggested Harold in their ears.

The two ex-agents shared a look.

'Toss you for it?'

'You wanna win or not?'

John raised an eyebrow.

'Well she is sort of hot,' he allowed.

'Worth an awkward psychoanalysis deep into your psych?'

'Debatable.'

_'Will you two please make up your minds?'_

'Touchy Harold?'

_'We don't have all day. And need I remind you threat may be-'_

'Imminent,' finished the two in unison.

_'Yes. Well,'_ Harold was just a little put out, _'please just make up your minds.'_

'Coin toss?'

'Rock paper scissors.'

John agreed, sticking out his hand.

'On the count of three.'

'On the three or a beat after the three?'

Shaw grinned as she heard Harold's exasperated sigh and imagined his head in resting in his hands.

The two performed the motions. Shaw lost- or won, depending on how she looked at it.

_'Thank you Ms Shaw I'm constructing your identity now. Mr Reese, I've asked a friend to assist you into investigating Ms Turing's background.'_

'Nice to see you're getting some help Shaw,' quipped a familiar voice and the two turned to find its source.

Zoe Morgan walked up, smile present on her face looking as glamorous as she ever did.  

'Thought it was time to work through some issues.'

'Ask her to look at that shooting thing. It could really do you some good.'

Shaw smirked good-naturedly. She didn't much mind the woman not least because she was very good at what she did.

'Hello John.'

'Zoe.'

'Harold when have you booked me in for?'

_'An hour Ms Shaw.'_

Shaw clicked off her coms before leaving the pair.

'Don't do anything I wouldn't John,' she muttered as she passed him.

 

* * *

 

Shaw pulled at her black suit jacket, straightening it up.

She had picked up the woman's trouser suit from a nearby store using Harold's card. Simple but sophisticated; Sam Smith was a shady CEO of a company with numerous military contracts. She was aiming for professional: polite but guarded.

The elevator doors opened and she stepped out into a nicely decorated corridor, walking down to Caroline Turing's office.

'Alright boys I'm going in.'

_'Do be careful what you say Ms Shaw.'_

_'Don't get lost in that pretty face,'_ chipped in John.

Shaw ignored him as she knocked and a voice invited her in.

The office was standard: lightly decorated, just enough personal effects to own it but not seem overwhelming. Big windows. Light. Probably meant to relax.

'Can I get you anything? A glass of water?'

Shaw gave a smile.

'Yes. Thank you that sounds lovely.'

'Please, take a seat Sam I'll be through in a second.'

Shaw nodded her understanding as the woman left. Nice touch using her first name: strike up familiarity with the patient.

Shaw immediately headed for the psychologist's desk, flicking through her diary and taking a few photos.

'The woman values her privacy. Client initials only.'

_'Woman after my own heart.'_

Shaw heard the click of the door opening and moved to stand by the window, eyes falling to where she imagined John had set up eyes on the room.

'Here.'

Turing bought over a small glass of water that Shaw accepted gratefully.

'Thank you.'

'You seem tense,' asked Turing with what seemed like genuine concern, though Shaw suspected it was an emotion replicated a hundred times a day.

Shaw shrugged.

'First time seeking therapy. It's not really my thing.'

Even if she wasn't real, that was. Shaw hated therapists.

A winning smile was flashed and even Shaw couldn't deny that it seemed to promise you everything and soothe all your worries. If she were anyone else it might have worked.

Caroline walked back around to her desk.

'Did I mention I hate therapists,' muttered Shaw and John chuckled.

_'Indeed Ms Shaw but perhaps we can put aside your hatred?'_

'Take a seat, please,' Turing gestured to the rather comfortable looking couch.

Shaw turned back towards the window, scanning the surrounding buildings noticing the glaring target on Caroline's (and more importantly her own) back to any sniper stationed nearby.

Windows: great for lighting, shit for bullets.

'Can we close the blinds?'

Caroline looked put out for just a second. Just enough for Shaw to register the confusion clearly before it morphed back to the warm expression.

'Of course.'

Turing walked around to the mechanism as Shaw watched, taking in every calculated movement.

_'Well I did have eyes on you,'_ complained John.

'You'd think this woman wanted to get shot in the back with those windows,' quipped back Shaw under her breath.

_'Not everyone makes accommodation purchases based on standards of sniper protection Shaw.'_

Shaw bit back a retort as Turing's attention returned to her and this time she obliged, perching on the leather as she placed down her glass with a small clink. Turing leant back in her own chair, pad of paper at the ready.

Shaw hated those pads. She used to play a game once: how many times could she get them to scribble out, to scrawl a new diagnosis? How many diagnoses could she get in an hour?

'You seem afraid of something,' observed the therapist and Shaw raised an eyebrow.

'Aren't you meant to ask me the easy questions first?'

Turing tilted her head.

'I find the easy questions waste time,' she responded lightly and Shaw was almost impressed, nodding her head appreciatively.

The woman was good.

'What makes you think I'm afraid?'

'The blinds. The tension. And you're facing the door ready to escape at a moments notice. Seems like you might be afraid of something catching up to you.'

'I could say the same,' shot back Shaw, relaxing slightly into her character. Though how much was Sam Smith and how much was Sameen was certainly debatable.

It was a vie for control.

'Me?'

She seemed genuinely confused but considering how much she had perceived already Shaw doubted.

'The panic button under your desk.'

Turing shuffled slightly in her seat as if made uncomfortable by the observation.

'Hyper-vigilant too.'

'You calling me paranoid?'

'Do _you_ think you're paranoid?'

The way the sentence was stressed tugged at Shaw, reminding her of wasted hours in bland offices with nothing to look at but white walls; no entertainment but to play with the therapist. Fit the diagnosis.

Shaw settled for a raised eyebrow.

'I was thinking more along the lines of...ex-military.'

Shaw reached forwards for her glass if only to hide any reaction of her surprise.

_'Careful Ms Shaw,'_ reminded Harold in her ear and Shaw gritted her teeth.

She turned of her earpiece, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

She really hated therapists.

'That's quite an assumption.'

And eerily accurate, added Shaw in her head.

'A natural conclusion,’ amended Turing though Shaw caught the edges of a smirk.

‘Oh?’

‘Your secretary was vague when making your appointment. I assume your work is highly secretive and given you’re in a tailored suit, probably government related.’

‘Full house Veronica Mars,’ muttered Shaw into her glass.

‘So what is it you wanted to talk about Sam?’

Shaw shrugged.

‘What do people usually talk about?’

‘Whatever they want; this is a free space in which to express yourself.’

‘To be categorised,’ spit out Shaw faster than she could stop herself.

She really, really hated therapists.

‘You don’t like to be categorised?’

‘I don’t like questions.’

Turing frowned.

‘People learning about you? People getting too close?’

‘Asking questions they already know the answers too.’

Shaw pulled a grin from the number, a genuine one Shaw noted, seemingly different from all their previous interactions. It perplexed Shaw in its nature though she quickly reminded herself that the entire persona of ‘therapist’ was hardly the reality of the woman before her. She suspected even this seemingly innocent woman had skeletons.

‘People don’t ask questions if they already know the answer Sam,’ reminded Turing though she didn’t seem to be entirely convinced of what she was saying.

In fact she seemed highly amused, attempting to play this off as patronising. If Shaw wasn’t practiced in the art of reading people she might have missed it.

‘No, people ask questions they have already formed the answers to.’

‘I sense you’re referring to me here.’

Shaw leant back in her chair.

‘It would apply to you yes.’

‘But there are others?’

Shaw nodded once.

Turing placed her pad of paper on the table in front of her.

It was empty.

She too sat back in her own chair, slim legs crossed and she seemed to be settling out of what Shaw would call ‘therapist mode.’

‘Why do you think people do that Sam?’

‘I think _you’re_ doing it to be contrary.’

‘And how does that make you feel?’

‘Angry.’

‘Are you often angry?’

‘Yes.’

‘Should we explore that further?’

‘No.’

Turing chuckled.

‘Why not?’

‘Because you already know the answer.’

‘What would give you that idea?’

‘You’re no longer the therapist.’

‘Oh?’

Turing didn’t seem phased by the observation.

That was new. Usually they balked at the discovery of themselves filtering into the sessions, that Shaw had seen more than she was supposed to, that they were no longer the blank slate on which she was meant to project herself.

Turing seemed….seemed to be repressing a grin. Seemed amused.

It intrigued Shaw.

‘I think I’ve analysed you as much as you seem to have analysed me.’

‘You seem confident that you know me.’

‘So do you.’

Turing laughed and stood up.

‘It seems your time is up Sam.’

Shaw nodded once, standing up herself and smoothing out the creases in her suit pants. Caroline watched the movement.

‘Will you be booking another appointment?’

‘No.’

Turing nodded once.

‘It was lovely to speak to you Sam. Have a lovely day.’

They shook hands.

‘You too,’ replied Shaw as she was meant too.

 

* * *

 

Eventually HR caught up to Turing and Shaw found herself dragging her to the nearest hotel, meeting John in the foyer before he went to book them a room.

‘Who the hell are you?’

Shaw was keeping watch and barely registered the query.

‘Concerned third party,’ she rattled off non-committedly.

Her gun was ready in her coat pocket as her left hand gripped tightly onto Turing’s wrist stopping her from fleeing.

‘So you’re not Sam Smith?’

Shaw finally turned to look at Turing almost as if it were an annoyance.

‘No.’

John thankfully returned.

‘Honeymoon Suite was the only one available.’

They began heading for the elevators.

‘Please tell me you used Finch’s card?’

John gave her a look that suggested she was being stupid as he pressed the button for their floor. The silence in the elevator was thick with tension and just a little bit of awkward.

_‘Mr Reese?’_

‘I’m fine too Finch. And yes we have her. Escape route would be appreciated,’ quipped Shaw as Harold’s voice filtered in her earpiece.

_‘Working on an escape route now.’_

‘Great. Now you’re hearing voices.’

Shaw shot her a glare before the three exited the elevator, jogging down the corridor and shuffling into the room.

Shaw immediately let go of Turing’s wrist, pulling out her gun and choosing instead to scan the room as John tended to his arm, Caroline moving forwards to hand him a towel to mop up the blood.

Shaw watched having finished her rounds of the room, gun held ready at her waist as Turing seemed to think before posing her next question.

‘I don’t understand. Who would want to kill me?’

John looked up from his arm.

‘I was hoping you could tell me that. Someone with the means and the money to hire a team to get rid of you: sound like any of your patients?’

‘Yeah. All of them.’

Shaw scoffed and John shot her a look.

‘Only way to call of the dogs is to find out who hired them.’

Turing turned around, struggling to find an answer as she felt her way to the nearest seat and sat down tentatively on its edge.

Shaw shook her head letting her eyes wander around the room: so predictable.

‘I can’t think…can’t move…this must be what panic feels like.’

Oh come _on_ , thought Shaw hand flicking restlessly on her gun as she altered her grip. Did she have to be here for this? This was pathetic.

Shaw audibly groaned in frustration before turning to Reese, walking towards where he stood.

Her left finger tapped on the granite counter-top in a seemingly aimless rhythm.

_We need to get out of here_

John looked at her as he tapped his response.

_Not with her like that._

_Look I know she’s hot and all with some great legs and a fantastic ass_

John raised an eyebrow _._

_But suck it up. We need to move. Now._

_We’re fine. We can take this._

_With HR here the NYPD will follow._

_We don’t have any other choice._

Turing watched the silent conversation, ears picking up on the tapping though her face showing no indication she had registered a pattern.

‘What about tech support? Any word?’

‘No.’

_‘I’m working on it.’_

‘Who are you talking about?’

‘A friend,’ quipped Shaw, reaching into a nearby bowl resting on the counter.

Two chocolates found their way into Caroline’s lap.

‘What…?’ she asked softly, looking up at Shaw in question, ‘will these…help to produce an adrenaline response?’

Shaw shrugged, tucking her gun into the back of her pants as she unwrapped her own chocolate.

Turing frowned.

‘Who the hell are you?’

‘Not your patient,’ replied Shaw through a mouthful of chocolate.

‘Let’s just say we both help people with their problems,’ tried John.

‘Yeah, only we actually make a difference rather than sitting on a chair all day. Points for attracting the attention of a highly dangerous criminal arm of the NYPD though: well done,’ threw out Shaw as she resumed her post by the glass doors that led to the balcony.

John shook his head in exasperation before coming to kneel before Turing.

‘I promise, I will tell you when it’s time to panic.’

Turing nodded once, Shaw watching the exchange from the corner of the room.

She hated this part of the job.

John busied himself with fixing his arm as Shaw decided to scope out the balcony, letting a cool breeze enter the room as she slid open the doors taking watching over the city.

It didn’t take long for her to sense a presence in the doorway behind her.

‘You shouldn’t be out here,’ she reminded, not bothering to turn around.

‘Why not?’

‘Snipers,’ replied Shaw as if it were obvious.

Turing walked forward, standing beside Shaw as she fiddled with an empty chocolate wrapper between her fingers.

‘Why are you out here then?’

‘It’s my job.’

Shaw grew distinctly uncomfortable with the new addition outside.

‘You don’t do this often do you?’

Shaw snapped her head to Turing who was looking at her.

‘Shoot people? Do it all the time.’

‘Comfort people.’

‘That’s John’s job. Not mine. I point and shoot. Simple.’

‘John’s not very good at it either.’

‘Are you psychoanalysing us?’

‘A little.’

John joined them on the balcony.

‘Are you okay?’

‘Better.’

Shaw repressed a scoff.

Sirens sounded below.

‘Fuck,’ cursed Shaw.

John took a look over the edge.

‘Finch: gonna need some help.’

  

* * *

 

‘You saving me: is this making up for someone you didn’t save?’ questioned Turing to Shaw as she led the way up to the helicopter she was very much looking forward to flying.

Shaw groaned.

‘Stop with the therapy talk.’

‘Talking about your issues helps distract me.’

‘Well that’s slightly messed up.’

‘If you two wouldn’t mind,’ grunted John, bringing them back to the urgent situation at hand.

Shaw grinned.

‘I’m learning people skills John. It’s what Finch would want.’

‘I’d give you a solid 5,’ provided Turing and Shaw glanced over her shoulder to look at her, eyebrow raised.

‘Thanks.’

‘Don’t mention it.’

 

* * *

 

‘We should just use you as a decoy,’ muttered Shaw, taking up the rear as John led the trio swiftly down concrete stairs.

The helicopter escape had been a bust.

‘And I hate to say told you so but-‘

‘Yes, thank you Shaw,’ grunted out John.

‘You said you’d tell me when to panic: I’m guessing now’s the moment.’

Shaw heard the creeping of hysteria into Turing’s voice.

‘We’re fine. FBI’s a piece of cake.’

‘They wanna kill me too?’

‘Nope. They wanna kill him,’ replied Shaw, gesturing to John as they sped down the stairs.

John stopped suddenly, causing Shaw to fall into Turing a little awkwardly.

Shaw shot a glare at the woman daring her to say anything.

‘Finch got us a way out?’

‘This way.’

 

* * *

 

‘We made it to the elevator Finch.’

‘Yeah. Just.’

_‘Glad to hear it: I’ll contact you when I’m in position.’_

The three waited as the elevator seemed to make tediously slow progress, eyes drifting to the slowly changing numbers.

John checked his phone before quickly slamming 26.

‘What’re we doing?’

‘They hit the button on the floor below us.’

John flicked the emergency stop as Shaw cocked her gun.

‘Let’s go Turing,’ she muttered as the woman stopped in the doorway whilst John checked the corridor.

‘The guys who’re trying to kill you or the guys who’re trying to kill me?’

‘Don’t think it really matters,’ replied Shaw in John’s stead as he walked over, handing her a pair of wire cutters.

‘Open the fire safety panel. Try shorting the wires until the override light comes on and we can bypass the floor below.’

Turing knelt down and Shaw watched as she tentatively opened the panel and stared at the wires before plunging her hands in and picking at various wires.

‘I think I owe you an apology.’

‘Me or him?’ grunted Shaw.

Turing looked over her shoulder.

‘You.’

‘Yeah?’

‘I diagnosed you as paranoid.’

Shaw shrugged

‘Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not trying to kill you,’ she nodded her head towards the wire panel, ‘stop fucking around and cut the right wire.’

Turing frowned.

‘I don’t know which one it is.’

Shaw raised an eyebrow.

‘Your fingers keep coming back to it. You can keep pretending you know nothing about the system and we can get brutally shot and possibly blown up, or you can cut the fucking wire.’

Turing smiled again despite their situation before turning back towards the panel.

‘Yes ma’am,’ she muttered and Shaw rolled her eyes.

‘Let’s go John. We got this working.’

 

* * *

 

John took station behind a concrete pillar, firing off rounds as Shaw quickly dragged Turing to the necessary escape route.

She slid the metal door to the side with a little difficulty exposing a ladder.

‘This goes out to the river. There’ll be a car. Get in it.’

Turing took position on the ladder.

‘How do I know it’s-‘

‘I just ran through a hotel holding off both the FBI and the NYPD for you,’ grunted Shaw impatiently, ‘if you can’t trust me now you have some serious issues of your own to work through.’

Turing smiled.

‘We all have our problems.’

‘Some more than most. Now go.’

‘Try not to watch my ass,’ quipped Turing and Shaw stopped.

‘What?’ she growled, almost double-taking.

‘Thank you Sam,’ she said honestly, ignoring her previous quip and Shaw shook her head.

‘You’re a fucking pain in the ass you know that?’

‘I’ve been told.’

Turing still didn’t move and Shaw started to get antsy as the gunfire increased.

‘What’re you waiting for a fucking medal lets go.’

‘You want to give me your number?’

Shaw glared at her, studying the smirk and genuine gratitude in the woman who was clearly itching to get up that ladder but Shaw had made her stay. The therapist was not who she seemed Shaw could see that clear as day but then...well it really wasn't any of her business. And she did have great legs. 

‘I’m sure you can find it on your own,’ quipped Shaw before leaving the woman to her own devices, sliding closed the metal door as Turing began to climb.

Shaw reloaded a mag into her gun smirking, and a small part of her hoped that Turing might just find her again.  


End file.
